Loose Leaf Binder

By Peter Halstead

As soon as it’s organized,
New winds whip my world away.
Maybe it’s something I’ve said.
No, this is what I meant to say.
But storms grab my boughs and shred
Them on the ground.
I keep smoothing out the folds,
The season tied up and bound.
But none of it holds.

Year after year the colors run,
And I die before I sing.
Loose as any leaf,
Stripped of everything I’ve done,
And edited beyond belief, I
Can only add another rung,
And turn again to sun.

July 19th, 2019